


Crisp and Cold

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Series: Finding Home Away From Home (GQ/Enby Dean Winchester with Shadow Moon Fics) [24]
Category: American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fae Dean Winchester, Iceland, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, POV Second Person, Queer Character, Queerplatonic Relationships, Scandinavia, Stars, Timestamp, Trees, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: Winchester and Shadow are traveling.





	Crisp and Cold

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who is suffering through the emotional hangover that is a different 'verse than this, and for everyone who sees nonbinary Dean as a little bit of home. (I can check out but I can never leave...)

The air is crisp and cold. Your hand is in Shadow’s jacket pocket as you walk over thin, wispy layers of snow, the kind you can kick up with your boots. It is night, because you could have made a huge to-do list of the things you’d do once you got to your Father’s lands, but you could never have lived with yourself if you’d timed it wrong and missed the night, the stars, the lights. And so you won’t.

There are too many people, so you and Shadow step off and away from where they are, looking into the trees, and you listen. You follow their directions. 

Shadow puts an arm around you as you both walk away from the crowd and stand at the edge of the small wooded area. You turn in tandem and then let yourself stand with your back to a tree, leaning back into the trunk and breathing.

The first thing that you can see when you look up is that the sky is a blanket of countless stars. You breathe and count, and you aren’t expecting that you would hear the almost-roar of Thor’s voice, or what you sometimes imagine Thor’s voice to be, when you let your gaze linger on the sky.

“Do you hear that?” Shadow asks.

“Once, Father said that Thor died before the war proper,” you say. “He was tired.”

 

You can almost hear the gears turning as Shadow thinks that over. The world is so quiet here, even with a crowd of tourists nearby, and it makes the sounds from where the gods dwell all the more clear.  
“Makes sense to me. Aren’t we all? Aren’t you tired?”

The sky comes alight, greens and purple-pinks, and slowly the light dances across the sky, making its way toward you, Shadow, and the trees.

“We all are. Yes. I am too. I guess some of us might have more to be tired of.”

“That’s never sounded more true to me than right now.”

“Let’s give it to them to carry,” you say. The two of you breathe deeply in and out and stare up into the light, naturally leaning in toward each other, like trees choosing to grow together.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t know what I would have done,” you continue.

Shadow takes your hand from his pocket and squeezes it in his own. “You would have been all right, Winchester,” he says. “But I’m glad that I could help.”

“You don’t want to--?”

“Go home? Never. But we’ll go somewhere. And wherever it is, we’ll both be there.”

“So you’ll stay.”

“It’s what I do,” Shadow says, and all around you both, the light cascades in bright, streaking showers of color. “Have I ever left?”

He never has. You’re well aware he’s never so much as wanted to, no matter how many tests there are.

You can almost hear your Father’s grim chuckle rushing in with the cold, and you are right where you have always wanted to be.


End file.
